Darker Than Black
by GaleSynch
Summary: Knowing the future doesn't make it any brighter. AU, SI-OC. Co-written with Riseha.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

* * *

There was nothing more confusing and surreal than feeling the bone-grinding agony of a car slamming into your hip and then you were flying—weightless and airborne, painless and breathless.

And being in air was fun until you were falling.

She fell and the impending crash, the promise of pain, tore a frightened scream out of her mouth. Yet, it was an infant's wailing cry that greeted her ears, that reverberated from her throat.

Confusion didn't begin to settle until she felt her limbs shrinking and her body curled into itself until she was but a mangled thing forced into a small vessel.

She didn't stop screaming; from her throat, the baby's voice kept screaming through the tears.

…

..

.

"No, please!"

The woman's broken scream tugged on his heartstrings even though he knew he should've been paying more attention to the flashing jets of green light and the well-being of his friends. But Sirius Black was nothing if not chivalrous—the Sorting Hat saw the chivalry in him and the chivalry in him was rearing its head now.

He pivoted on his heels, wand cutting the air, to the source of the scream. Blood from an astray Sectumsempra—that git Snivellus was going to _pay_ —trickled from his forehead into his right eye. But his gaze sought out the injured witch easily enough.

She had fallen and her attacker loomed over her, yet she had no eyes for anything but the blot of black that'd been flung in air—a squirming bundle with thin, small flailing limbs—

His gut lurched. This was sick, those Death Eaters were sick—that asshole had flung a baby into air.

Sirius threw himself in that direction; the baby was falling too fast for a spell to reach. Red light seared past his shoulder; James shouted as he cast a panicked Protego; Sirius crashed onto the ground, arms flung out, and weight crashed into them.

The baby's cry was lost amidst the roars of spells and blasts of curses.

"Oh thank Godric," Sirius wheezed. His relief was a short-lived memory; the Blasting Curse that nearly set the baby aflame was a wake-up call. Sirius swore violently, tucking the infant close to his chest, and rolling for all they were worth. He came up into a crouch and sprang to his feet, wand aimed at every masked bastard he could see.

His sight was unencumbered even though it was one of the darkest, cruelest nights he'd been through—and that was saying something, considering the amount of nights he'd spent in 12 Grimmauld Place. The villa the witch being hunted by the Death Eaters was on fire, illuminating the battlefield, bathing the unmoving bodies splayed around in amber light, and elongating the shadows of the dozens of duelists.

Neighboring Muggles had noticed and had immediately ringed the special hotline that contacted the Ministry of Magic instead of the Muggle law-enforcers as the Muggles were led to believe. Fury rose in Sirius' chest at the thought of innocent people dragged into it for trying to help.

The infant wept into his chest, soaking the fabric of his robes. "Reducto!" he screamed, and the Death Eater cornering James was flung away, arm a mangled, bloody mess. Sirius' curse was among the last before the Death Eaters retreated, seeming to realize their numbers had been cut down in the battle.

"Cowards! _Chicken_!" Sirius' eardrums throbbed from Mad-Eye Moody's roars as the famed Auror limped after where the Death Eaters had Disapparated with loud, inelegant cracks. "McKinnon—where's that useless Healer? Get her over here! The woman's dying!"

"Daughzer…" Blood spilled from her mouth as the dying witch struggled to articulate her last words. Sirius staggered over—his ankle ached—and while he couldn't make out words over the gurgles of blood, and Marlene McKinnon's attempts to soothe the woman was interfering with his hearing, the shift in his arms told him what the woman was searching for.

Marlene looked up, face pasty, hands trembling. Her wand slipped from her grasp and rolled onto the grassy plains stinking of smoke and stained with ash. "Lacerating Curse right to the chest and throat … I can't … there's no healing curses as Dark as those …" Dark lashes caught on tears. "I can't … do anything—" She broke off miserably, choking on a sob.

A hand touched Sirius' wrist. A faint graze of human skin; Sirius looked down. The witch didn't seem terrified of impending death, if she even noticed the agony of bleeding out; to Sirius, it was clear her golden gaze was only reserved for the trembling bundle in Sirius' hold.

The rest of the Order shuffled away, intent on giving the mother and daughter privacy. Sirius could not move, the baby clung to him, sniffling.

"Reg," the witch sighed, golden eyes flicking up to Sirius' grey ones and something like relief shone in them before she turned back to the baby. "Viv'e – aim' – rire – Reg'lss." She choked, her eyes finally watering as the reality of what'd happen in three – two – _one_ : death – finally hit.

Her face slackened into a mockery of peace at last as he placed the infant in its dead mother's arms.

.

It was a long time before Sirius removed the baby, whose cries had petered out into slumber, from its dead mother. It was surreal; it was the first time he held an orphan even though he knew this war had orphaned so many people.

Sirius glanced down at the peaceful, pale face of a motherless and fatherless baby.

For an unfathomable reason, he imagined grey eyes would be staring up at him if the baby opened its eyes now.

.

"Sirius, you can't be serious…"

Sirius inspected the document on his desk, giving it a last cursory glance to ensure he'd filled out the right information. James poked his ribs; he swatted his best friend's hand away. "I _am_ Sirius," he said impatiently, "Literally _and_ physically in the flesh Sirius."

"Okay, then," said James, still staring bug-eyed at his best mate through his round glasses, "If not your mind then maybe it's your eyes that is the problem. Padfoot, you're looking at a birth certificate."

"I know."

"Moony, tell that dummy over there that he's looking at a birth certificate."

"Sirius," began his werewolf friend lightly, "Perhaps you should reread the third slot. This clearly asks you to name the baby's father—who, unless I'm mistaken, is not you." Remus squinted at the first slot, face slackening momentarily in surprise. "And you named the baby … _Regulus_?"

Sirius signed his name to finalize it and handed the document to the wizard scowling impatiently at him behind the desk. He spun around to face his best friends, taking a moment to marvel at the fact the four Marauders were finally together in the same place without being simultaneously a spell away from death.

"That sounds like what the woman was trying to say. I'm going to respect her wishes. Where's the baby?"

"With Marlene," answered Wormtail. He wetted his lips. "You're going to adopt the baby? Why…?" He sounded mystified. "How would you have the time to raise it—I mean, we're at war! We have enough trouble as it is!"

Sirius white-knuckled the edge of the counter he was leaning against. "She named the baby Regulus, and I so happened to be there. It can't be a coincidence! I've never taken Divination seriously and this'll sound stupid but—it's the working of Fates!" He wished they'd understand, but for the first time, his friends came up short.

James, Remus and even _Peter_ , exchanged dubious looks. Ultimately, as usual, Remus tried to make him see sense: "Padfoot," his voice was genteel, like Sirius was glass that might crack from being spoken to loudly; great, his best friends thought the strain of war had cracked his sanity. "I know you're feeling excessive guilt from _his_ death. We get it … you were estranged but at the end of the day, Regulus was still your brother and—alright, frankly, reincarnation is farfetched."

Sirius was already shaking his head. He wanted to shake his friend's words away but the reminder of Regulus' death was like wasp's sting on his heart—his stupid, foolish, weak brother, dead because he didn't know what he'd gotten into, a waste of his young life, another one of Sirius' failures. He'd make no progress with them today; he'd try another day, when he was feeling less tired, and less impulsively reckless.

Once he'd gotten a good night's rest, he might also be coming round to the idea that adopting the baby was the stupidest, most reckless thing he'd ever done.

But Sirius didn't care now.

"I'm trying to do the right thing, the noble thing—the kid's got no family left. We can't dump a witch's baby in an orphanage."

"What if family steps up to claim it?" asked James, arching a brow.

"Then I'd give the baby back, okay? Can we go now?"

Remus frowned at Sirius' back as his friend staggered away. He glanced at James. "…Does he even know the baby's a girl?"

James smirked. "If having Padfoot as her father isn't bad enough already, she's got that unfortunate Slytherin of a name. We should cut the baby some slack."

"How long will it take for Padfoot to realize the baby is female?" asked Peter tentatively, tweedling his thumbs.

"One," said James cheerfully.

"Two," continued Remus, mouth twitching in amusement.

Peter hadn't started on "Three" before Sirius' scream echoed down the hallway and the man sped past them once more, slamming into the wooden counter that was the sole barrier between the illegal Animagus and an irate wizard:

"Wait! I've got it wrong! Correction, correction; Smiths, I've to change the baby's middle name!"

* * *

 **Darker Than Black**

* * *

If being mowed down by a van was the key to being reincarnated into the world of Harry Potter as Sirius Black's adopted kid was a proven, scientific fact, I think a lot of teenagers back home would've been throwing themselves at moving vehicles already.

Fortunately for mankind on non-magical Earth, this was an unproven fact.

Unfortunately for the poor soul residing in the reincarnated baby's body, this meant she was completely unprepared for the reality check.

There was very little she could do to disapprove of her theory nor could she think she was hallucinating for fear of admitting she was insane. She was sane, _very_ sane.

"Regulus Chara Black" assured herself of this fact as she wrenched, hard, on the messy curls that sprouted from her godfather James Potter's scalp. "Ouch, let go of me, leggo!" screamed the infamous Marauder, trying to gently pry her off him. "Padfoot, get her off me!"

"I will if you'll get your own brat to let go of my finger; I'm not a chew toy, contrary to popular belief. I'm the one doing the chewing," snapped the voice of her adopted father from the couch.

The reincarnated baby's senses weren't off. She could smell James' shampoo, she could feel his hair that was slowly being detached in her chubby fists, and she could definitely ride out the jostle of his attempts to shake her off.

James wrenched carelessly and roughly just as she decided to let go.

She dropped. In the span of three seconds, she opened her mouth and _wailed_. The fizzle of hot, foreign energy in her seemingly exploded from her mouth as she cried out in fear, recalling all too well the sensation of being hit by a car and being forced into an infant's body.

She bounced on an invisible cushion mid-fall. She dropped onto her behind before James could even react, sniffles abating as surprise and curiosity took over. Was that … accidental magic? She looked up expectantly for confirmation but James was too distracted to notice.

"You … you _moron_!" Sirius screeched, leaping to his feet, and practically repeating James' mistake: having forgotten Harry was in his lap, he'd sprung to his feet. The baby was lucky he had the mattress underneath him at that time.

It was a wonder Lily even let these two imbeciles take care of two hapless infants.

"You idiot!" James retorted, plucking 'Regulus' off the ground and shoving her at Sirius. Her adoptive father snatched her back and James immediately went down on one knee to check on his son, though the giggling baby definitely had not been hurt. "You nearly killed my son!"

'Regulus' looked down.

Harry Potter's blue eyes—yet to darken into his mother's shade of green—blinked up at her.

And no matter how many times she blinked, there was no dispelling the image: this was her reality now.

Which meant … oh, great, she'd might get to meet the Dark Lord in person.

Even though knowing that she'd have Harry Potter bearing the brunt of the Killing Curse should she be unfortunate enough to be in the same place and time, it didn't stop her from shuddering in fear of what was to come.

Was this a blessing or …?

* * *

 **Darker Than Black**

* * *

 _Harry Potter © J.K. Rowling_

 _Chara - Riseha's writing_  
 _Regulus - GaleSynch's writing_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

The click of a door opening and a familiar man's voice bellowing, "I'm home!" made Chara jolt.

"How's my favorite daughter doing?" crowed the illegal Animagus, popping his head in to grin widely at her; Chara's room was his first stop once reaching the expensive penthouse he called home. From what Chara had managed to deduce, the penthouse in Birmingham had once belonged his uncle Alphard and once the man had passed away, it fell into Sirius' grasp.

Sirius had generously—and much to her distaste—shared his living space with Peter Pettigrew. Remus Lupin's presence wasn't something she minded much but to be living under the same roof as Wormtail …

Not that she could do anything about it; her sole comfort was that they wouldn't be seeing the likes of one another for many years to come until Hogwarts. And then, one way or another, she'd oust him—for Sirius, for the man who'd picked her up from death's cradle and wanted to raise her as his own.

The unfortunate masculine name was something she'd have to deal with for the rest of her life.

And once she could better articulate her words, she'd have to convince Sirius she was not, in fact, the reincarnation of his younger brother—though he'd unknowingly gotten the reincarnation part right. Why he would think she was Regulus' reincarnation however was baffling to her as well. And apparently so to his friends who exchanged dubious looks when her new first name was spoken.

Chara beamed at Sirius. "Papa!"

She would've run over and given him a hug—had she not glimpsed Wormtail behind her adopted father's shoulder.

She didn't exactly hate Wormtail, even though she knew many fans of Harry Potter despised the rat Animagus. To be completely fair, anyone, highly likely including her, would've prostrated before the feet of the man that could kill them with a jab of a stick—anyone claiming resolutely otherwise was a hypocrite.

Or, perhaps, Chara would think such because she had never been to the other side: she had never known the friendship the Golden Trio and the three loyal Marauders had claimed for themselves: undying devotion for one another. All Chara had from her previous life were people she sat with at lunch, in class and to nod to one another in hallways.

As it turned out, Chara didn't need to go to Sirius.

He came for her, keen on physical affection as he was. He bumped noses with her, either not noticing or ignoring the instinctive cringe from the baby. "Sorry for the wait, were you good?" Chara didn't find the need to reply though, mentally, she thought there was something fundamentally wrong about three grown men trusting a one-year-old to not get herself killed without supervision—the fundamental difference in mentality of the wizards and Muggles baffled her sometimes. Luckily for them, Chara wasn't an ordinary toddler. "Our work's done for today, we can go over to Prongs' now! You can have another play date with Harry! You coming, Wormy?"

"…No. I've got to, uh, visit my Mum…" the shorter man declined quietly.

Chara's grey eyes flickered to Wormtail when he opened his mouth to speak, gauging him. His skin was a pasty shade of pale and tufts of his hair sported grey streaks, ostensibly from stress. His watery eyes clapped gazes with hers, and, disquieted, he averted his gaze guiltily.

Not for the first time, she wished she was a Legilimens to at least get a gist of what he was plotting and if it involved her. Hopefully not. She wasn't even related to Sirius by blood; he just picked her up from a corpse's arms.

However, she _was_ the unwitting daughter of someone on the Death Eaters' shit-list: maybe there was a reward for him if he turned her over?

Such thoughts made her wary around Wormtail, furthering her reluctance to spend any time in his company. Whenever it was his turn to watch over her and she was not at the Potters', she would take refuge under her bed and pray for someone else to quickly return.

And speaking of Legilimency, she ought to get her hands on books centering on that topic soon. Chara had spent the past few months perusing Sirius' old textbooks from Hogwarts; partly for information, partly to occupy her time.

There were only so much of her motor skills she could train by walking around, building blocks, drawing and coloring, and piecing puzzles.

The whoosh of flames that reached her ears indicated she was about to be put through the Floo Network. Chara jolted back into reality just as Sirius plopped her into the fire and magic—wrapping around her like gauze—whisked her away.

Chara dimly recalled Harry Potter's description of travel by Floo Network.

She did not share the main character's discomfort: she arrived at the Potters' residence laughing. An infant's hoot of laughter braided with hers not too soon; Harry, for unfathomable reasons, was utterly delighted by her appearance.

He stumbled on chubby, toddler legs towards her, cooing in appreciation as he hugged her in welcome.

It would've been adorable … if he wasn't invading her personal space and he got spittle on her.

 _Personal hygiene alert!_ Chara shoved him away before she could even compute how much force she'd been applying into her push, which was far too harsh to be applied on a toddler who didn't know what had annoyed her.

"Reggie!" admonished a gentle, lilting voice the reincarnation had come to associate with the one and only Lily Potter née Evans. Red hair showered down thin, compact shoulders as the woman leaned down to pick up her son. Who was sniffling. Way to make Chara feel like an inconsiderate bully.

All too soon, Sirius stepped through the flames behind her, distracting Lily. Which worked well for Chara; the toddler's attention was snagged by an elderly woman seated on the couch of the living room.

The Potters' residence were decked out in red and red, with gold underlines—a tribute to their House. Chara thought it was too bright for her tastes. But the ancient woman's maroon dress was so dark it was very eye-catching to onlookers. Liver spots and wrinkles were so deep they seemed to have been etched onto her skin.

"Ooh," Chara made an appreciative sound, wandering over to the woman whom she was absolutely sure was Bathilda Bagshot.

A part of her mused how backward she was being; to decline a hug from the main character himself and yet wanting to interact with a minor character who was only mentioned and whose corpse had been possessed by a serpent when she finally made an appearance.

Chara winced at the reminder that she was in a house surrounded by would-be dead people.

"Hello," Bagshot had a soft, mellow voice. Her eyes were glazed over with cataracts but her smile was soft and kind, allowing wisely compassion to bleed through her aura and encompass Chara. "You would be … Seirios' daughter?"

"Hi," said Chara simply, wondering if Bagshot had purposefully mispronounced her adoptive father's name. Bagshot patted her hair affectionately.

"She can speak already, Sirius?" asked Lily, surprised. Harry had calmed down from Chara's rough treatment. His mother placed him beside her once more and he sidled up to her, babbling Babyspeak she didn't understand.

"Yep." Sirius' voice was smarting with pride. "Her first word's _Padfoot_ and Remus' been teaching her; she can speak simple greetings, name most stuff she sees, ask and answer basic questions. How's Prongslet progressing?" Sirius shot Chara a smug smile over the couch as he meandered to the kitchen in search for food.

Oh, yes. Chara recalled the stupid competition Sirius and James had ongoing: to see which of their kids could outsmart the other. With the old soul masked in a baby's body, it was no wonder Chara was leaving Harry in the dust.

"He just said his first word." Lily did not sound perturbed by her son's lacking progress in comparison to Chara; she sounded as proud as Sirius did. "Lily! He said his Mommy's name!"

"Ah, well, James' got to wait for the next kid, then."

Chara stopped wrenching on Harry's hair. For two reasons: one, James had skidded down the stairs and was currently scowling at her for physically abusing his son; two, she was reminded of how James would never have a second child. Because he was going to die, and so was Lily.

She hoped Sirius would want to celebrate Halloween at home instead of coming over to the Potters for a grand _funeral_.

"Can't you two get along?" asked James exasperatedly, putting some distance between the Potters and the baby girl. He glanced at Bagshot, missing Chara's disgruntled expression that spelled, _I will if he backs off_. "Hey, Bathilda. Got any Cauldron Cakes of yours left? They're delicious!"

Bagshot chuckled slowly. Her eyes twitched sideways, like she'd heard James voice but couldn't see where he was. "… Lilian says it's in the kitchen?"

 _Lilian_? Maybe Bagshot was already past the three-quarter mark to senility. None of the adults seemed perturbed by the wrong names being thrown around so this must've been a common matter.

"Will you be staying for dinner, Bathilda?" Lily changed the subject, beaming at the old woman like she was looking at her own grandmother. "Please do; the more the merrier, I say. And Sirius, needless to say, will be joining us. Can Chara eat solids yet?"

"Of course she can!"

 _Friendliness_ was something Chara had to get used to in this new life. In her previous life with her _first_ adopted family, the neighbors generally avoided one another. For all she knew of the people living in the suburbia, Chara might've as well been separated from them by a galaxy.

"Is that birthday cake?" asked Sirius blankly.

"Harry's birthday was two days ago; you couldn't make it so I saved some for you and Chara."

Before Chara could completely register what this implicated—a date closer to the Potters' demise—a small, chubby hand tugged on hers. She turned her head and found herself looking into the would-be Boy-Who-Lived's smiling, unscarred face. In his other fist, he was grasping a toy broomstick.

Chara's eyes lit up. Now _that_ was something she didn't mind getting up close and personal with Harry for.

"Com' on!"

* * *

 **Darker Than Black**

* * *

"Regulus! Harry!"

His shout echoed in the darkness of the evening. Red hair whipped Sirius' shoulder as Lily spun to face him. "Did you find them?" she demanded.

Sirius stared incredulously at her. "Why would I be calling for them if I've found them?"

A dull flush crept up the Muggle-born witch's cheeks. "I was being … thorough!" She glared into the distance but the harshness of her green gaze was inflected with worry for the two missing toddlers. "I swear, the antics Harry will get up to when he grows up will give me countless heart attacks—I can just imagine the number of Howlers I'll be sending him and the letters from Dumbledore." She swept hair out of her eyes. "He's really sweet and I can tell he won't be as naughty as James but … I've got this feeling that…"

Lily was definitely rambling.

Sirius felt distinctly awkward, not knowing what to say. Lily hadn't been herself these days, as the autumn days started inching towards winter. James had confided in his best friend that the man had caught Lily bursting into tears once or twice in private, loosing several more threads of self-control with each death or massacre of friends and acquaintances.

All Sirius had been able to offer to him was that, "At least it wasn't during sex." To which James had awarded this brotherly advice with a punch to the gut.

Ah, friendship—Sirius hoped his daughter would have that sort of companionship from Harry, as he had with the boy's father.

"Reggie too," Sirius finally said, thoughtfully. "She's more cunning … every action is deliberate …" _She's reminding me more and more of Regulus._ He didn't voice it: he knew Lily was skeptical about his reincarnation theory.

It wasn't even _his_ theory. It was Remus'; it was the werewolf's own assumption.

Sirius turned his wand to the forest ringing the tiny church village that was Godric's Hollow. He could blame his inborn recklessness, his burning compassion that got out of hand sometimes, that made him overbearing in his wish to help people—to be different from the rest of the Blacks that only tore people down and destroy and hurt others.

But he'd been right: the unknown witch's daughter had grey eyes.

Thoughtful, bright grey eyes looking up at him with utter dependence and trust, no animosity and wariness; the hue of which was uniquely Regulus' and lacking the bitter enmity sowed between two estranged brothers.

Looking into the baby's eyes when she woke up in Marlene's arms, after drawing up a new birth certificate for a baby that might've already been recorded in the Ministry's records, sealed it: the feeling of rightness, of completeness, when he gazed into those eyes.

He kept Reggie's hair short, like a boy's. He dressed her in boy's clothes. He hoped she'd understand when she got older.

Sirius couldn't tell if his eyes were playing tricks on him or it was just wishful thinking: she looked a lot like his younger brother when he was her age. He didn't ask for confirmation from his friends—they'd shatter the illusion easily—and what he _didn't_ need was for reprieve to be taken away from him.

 _I haven't said I was sorry_

He saved the baby.

 _for walking out on you_

He'd saved Regulus.

The thought closed some of the gaping ache in his chest; he could almost breathe easily and painlessly again.

 _Almost._

Sirius sucked in a deep breath, cupped his hand around his mouth, and called, "Reggie! Harry!" as he stepped deeper into the night.

* * *

 **Darker Than Black**

* * *

For people living in war times, their respective parents weren't terribly attentive.

Regulus found it too easy to sneak out through the window for a flight around the tiny village. James and Sirius were bickering so loudly that their voices had drowned out the tiny _pop_ of the window's latch being blasted apart.

Explosions came easily to Regulus. At first, she'd thought it meant she was competent in handling magic and she'd delighted in exploding the space between Wormtail's feet whenever she could. Oh, how terribly wrong she was!

The book of _Magical Theory_ had said such: magic was, in essence, mysterious energy inaccessible to Muggles at its most volatile. The usage of wands, incantations, chants, runes and the occasional rituals—all of it was to trap and control magic to a certain extent. To tame it to controllable levels and harness it into providing so much more in life.

Now Regulus finally understood how Ariana had killed her own mother with her uncontrollable magic. Undisciplined, it was a ticking time bomb ready to blast off and destroy.

Now she understood why bangs-and-smokes were signs of incompetence. Technically, she was all bangs and bombs but, whatever—she didn't have the control over magic that would be considered a mastery of it.

Regulus had to grudgingly admit Tom Riddle Jr. was impressive if he could already hang a rabbit to the rafters and make animals do his bidding. How was it fair for a lunatic to be given so much talent he was going to abuse?

Still, explosions—big or small, according to her will and need—were useful sometimes. Such as now: Regulus gestured for Harry to hurry up, getting up behind him. The toy broomstick lifted two feet off the ground only. No hindrance; Regulus and Harry were both over two feet so it was easy to clamber over the windowsill and out of it on the broom.

Landing was a bit painful. Harry whined loudly when he fell.

"Shh, baby," chided Regulus, twinning their hands as he liked to do, and it calmed him down enough for her to take the broomstick from him without fuss. "Les 'o g'ave'ard." _Let's go to the graveyard_. Regulus really wanted to see the Dumbledores' graves and, of course, Ignotus Peverell's.

It was kinda like heading to the museum. Pity she hadn't a camera in handy.

The hitch in her grand adventure: she had no idea where the graves where. And asking for directions was implausible. That aside, the streets were empty; so few people lived in this backwater town.

Good thing she wouldn't need to do much walking, not with the broomstick at hand.

* * *

 **Darker Than Black**

* * *

An hour after her excursion ended, Regulus swayed where she stood in the corner of the Potters' living room, humming under her breath: the picture of _repentance_ for her naughtiness. Regulus credited herself for at least admitting she'd been the one to instigate sneaking out for a walk around graveyards; Harry had gotten off the hook, she however was punished with a timeout.

It had been a nice flight: no Muggles to catch them at it, Regulus had enjoyed an unusually good time with Harry as they'd hurtled into the forest. She'd been so distracted that she'd not noticed until Harry started crying that it was dark.

His fear and tears were a worthy price for a wandless magical breakthrough.

Regulus was too happy to be immensely bothered by Harry's crying. "Look, look!" she'd been squealing, jumping around like a monkey as she showed off the beach ball-sized white orb in hand. "Lumos, light, light!" The silence of the night was punctured only by her shrieks of joy and the hooting of nocturnal owls.

"Waaaa!"

At first, absurdly, she thought it was a toad being stomped on and she looked down first to make sure she had not committed indecent animal cruelty. Then upon realizing the sound had come from behind her, she groaned, and not a moment too soon, she had a baby sobbing into her shoulder, nearly knocking her to her knees with his weight alone.

" _Quiet_." Regulus' unnaturally harsh tones just incensed the baby into bawling louder.

In retrospect, it took so long to get back to their parents because she had spent long minutes trying to calm him down. "Shh…" She ran her hand, feather-light, through his head of messy hair, and down the ridges of his spine. "'m 'ere."

He was still wiping his wet eyes when James finally found them.

Regulus was pretty sure James wanted to skewer her right there and then; Sirius didn't share the same sentiment, nor did he appreciate the fact that Regulus must be punished.

"She was just having a little fun!"

"What sort of fun ends with crying babies?" James sniffed. "My poor boy's still trembling!" Actually, Harry was already asleep, exhausted from being dragged through forests and threading on soil with rotting corpses six feet under.

"Aw, poor baby. He might want to look for his spot into other Houses. Gryffindor doesn't take in _babies_." Sirius stuck out his lower lip in mockery.

"I'm not saying she can't have fun, Sirius," interjected Lily before James could retort, more serious than either man. "But you do need to punish her for—"

"Punished for having excessive fun?" he snapped. "You can never have too much fun."

"I don't know how Mrs. Black disciplined you," continued Lily patiently, flicking a lock of red hair behind her ear as she stared Sirius down. Both men were dwarfed by her, as she stood and they sat. Regulus was disconcerted to see Sirius' fingers curling into a loose fist: had bringing up his mother brought back bad memories? She thought that Sirius would leap up and punch Lily at any minute; his temper was _that_ dreadful, as implied in the books.

"And I don't know what the word _punishment_ brings into mind for you. I don't mean that you have to hit her or hex her: a timeout is enough for a minor wrong—no, you can't let her off the hook for even the simplest things. She's still very young and she needs to be taught the concept of right and wrong as soon as possible or she might end up like your cousin Lestrange."

Ever the loyal husband, James supported Lily's opinion with, "Yeah, mate. You said so yourself that Bellabitch's—" Lily hissed like an incensed cat, jerking her head in Regulus' direction, and Potter quickly amended, "Bella _trix_ 's parents couldn't control her at all."

"I …" Sirius paused to gather his thoughts. "Oh, alright. Guess you'll know more about parenting than myself. I don't exactly have a role model."

"What about my Mom and Dad, mate?" James arched a brow.

"Truthfully, they're more like grandparents," admitted Sirius ruefully. James smacked his bicep.

"Papa." Regulus' high, child voice carried over the distance to the adults. "Time's up." She punctuated her sentence with a yawn. Truthfully, she was rather tired too. Her body wasn't packed with as much energy as her previous one.

She really missed the body of a long-distance runner.

Regulus was positive running was a mandatory to stay alive in this world.

"Can we crash here for tonight? No one else will be home: both Moony and Wormtail will be with their respective families so I thought I should too, ya know." Sirius had seated Regulus on his arm, turning to look imploringly at the Potters.

James' eyes softened with understanding, Lily's, with sympathy and endless compassion. "Yeah," James' voice cracked slightly, "We're family, mate. You don't even have to ask."

"Great!" There was a tautness in Sirius' voice that made Regulus' head tilt curiously. "Hear that, Reggie?" Sirius unexpectedly buried his face in her hair—in all the coffee dark hair—and she couldn't be sure but she thought she'd heard a hitch in breath. Like he was holding back an emotional sob.

But when he resurfaced, he was grinning widely. "So, Prongs, can I have your side of the bed? I'm always open to sharing a bed with a hot lady." The Animagus winked at Lily, who rolled her eyes.

"No way!"

Laughing, Sirius sped them up the stairs, James thundering after them.

They didn't stop laughing as they chased one another. To a casual observer like Regulus, she thought they only laughed to buffer the thickening, smothering air of unease around them.

The reincarnation tightened her small fingers in her father's shirt, exhaling a breath that rode out on a shudder of her tiny frame.

 _I feel the end is coming. I'm afraid._

* * *

 **Darker Than Black**

* * *

 _Harry Potter © J.K. Rowling_

 _Chara - Riseha's writing_  
 _Regulus - GaleSynch's writing_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

"No, please!"

Sirius and James both stiffened at the too-familiar cry, the plea for mercy. Except, it couldn't be. The girl was dead, all that was left was …

Sirius cringed as he realized how similar his adopted daughter had sounded to her dead ( _far too young_ ) mother, however inadvertently. Voicing the same plea. Trying for a smile to soothe the two-year-old clinging to his leg, he crouched and ruffled her hair. "I'm sorry but the Order needs me now—I'll be home in the evening, okay?"

"NO!"

"Reggie." Sirius' temples throbbed with a swelling pulse as his daughter clung tighter around his neck. "You're safe here. Moony can't make it and Wormtail isn't allowed out of his safe house anytime soon."

"No—'ormy bad, sell 'em 'ut—'e's coming—gotta 'o— _'ill us_! Don't wanna stay!"

Her grey eyes implored him to understand, to stay. Sirius gently disentangled himself; Lily pulled the young toddler away from him. "No one's going to kill us," soothed the redhead, cupping Reggie's cheeks, turning her to face her as Sirius quickly slipped back into the foyer. "This house is under the Fidelius Charm; we're safe as can be."

"'Ormy tr'it'or. Sell us to 'ole'mor!"

"She knows a lot of big words, Padfoot. What've you been feeding her? The Oxford Dictionary?" James laughed. And stopped almost immediately. The sounds of Reggie's continuous resistance and her eventual tantrum reached their ears. "Did something happen this morning? She's never been like this before."

Sirius shrugged, as bewildered as James was. "No idea," he said honestly, pulling on his shoes and tucking his wand into his waistband. James offered his hand and Sirius, uncharacteristically, took it. Neither let go immediately even though Sirius was already standing. "Been acting weird since morning. It was a war trying to get her to the bathroom and she refused to eat. She just wanted to hide under her bed."

"Huh. I'll put some Sleeping Potion in her milk, ought to keep her sedated—I mean, calm enough. She's gotta be tired from screaming so much." James wasn't sure if it was legal but his mother had often threatened him with such when he got too hyperactive, so perhaps it was a viable option if Reggie proved to be a continued nuisance.

James blinked, hard, refocusing on his best friend, and with the focus, he sensed something knotting in his gut. He ignored it by scrutinizing every inch of his friend's face. "Well, I'll see you later," he finally said, unable to spin out their time any longer.

"Yeah." Sirius' hand tightened briefly before he let go. Halfway out the door, he turned and smiled at James. One last time.

"He'll be back," said James once the door closed; he wasn't speaking to anyone, except, maybe the door. Further inside the house, Reggie continued screaming.

* * *

 **Darker Than Black**

* * *

" _… As she fled, Cinderella left her glass slipper_ —or a birth test with _result positive_ if I was writing this…"

In spite of her herself, Chara couldn't stop herself from laughing. Her laugh was reluctant but no less amused. She'd heard Cinderella all too many times but James' commentary made those fairy tales amusing in a different light.

James peeked over the hardcover book that had been a gift from Harry's late grandparents. "Ready for naptime now?" he asked. His hazel eyes slid to where Harry was asleep, breathing softly into his mother's bosom; Lily's breathing was as even as Harry's and the house was quiet except for the wide-awake Chara and James.

The scene made Chara ache something fierce, with the curse of foreknowledge: that such tranquility would be something lost to Harry for the rest of his life.

And it would happen in a few hours; it was already afternoon, night would follow through much sooner than should be allowed.

Unexpectedly, her eyes stung.

These people weren't real at first … but they were now. James was warm flesh and blood, a mass of compassion and bravery with the occasional sadistic streak that, nevertheless, made a man ready to lay down his life for his family; Lily was stern but devoted; Harry was adorable and unscarred; and Sirius was … too much for words to describe.

They were kind. The sort of goodness that Chara's original reality was lacking in oceans. The type of good Chara had been searching for her whole life.

At the beginning of her first life, Chara has been acquainted with kindness such as this too. Or, what she thought was kindness that had rotted into insincere obligation. Chara had survived thus far in her previous life before the van ended everything—the good, the bad—due to charity and kindness, however reluctant or fake or forced, of others.

She never repaid the deeds and maybe it was because of that she was rarely ever blessed with compassion. Only luck had visited upon her, both good and bad.

"No." That said, she slid off the couch.

"Reggie, c'mon, kid—don't be like this." James sounded very put-upon. "I'm tired; you need rest; can't we all just snuggle up until your dad comes home?"

Chara responded by pulling out Harry's coloring book. "Oh, you're going to draw a picture of the magnificent James Potter? Now _that_ is something worthwhile enough to miss out naptime."

His vanity made her ogle him in disbelief for a second before she went back to the crayons and paper. She took a moment to marvel at her laterality: she used to be right-handed. Now her left hand was more inclined to take on the majority of work.

And drawing was something this body happened to excel at. Chara couldn't describe it but the composition and execution of bringing imagination to life was good for a toddler.

"You drew Wormy instead of me?!" cried James loudly, in mock hurt, once she showed him what she'd drawn. "Ah, a story. Nice art, Reggie." He flipped the pages. His brows furrowed deeper with each page turned.

A rat biting a key, handing it to a skeletal monster of a man that was so obviously Voldemort you'd have to be blind to not be able to tell. James and Lily, dead. Harry, alone and crying in his crib, orphaned. Obviously not that accurately; she was not that uncoordinated even though Sirius could gush about the wonders of her artistic hand.

"…Spooky imagination, Reggie." Then, much to Chara's horror, he tossed the book aside with more force than was necessary and flopped back onto the couch. His voice was rough as stone. "Now go over to Lily and just take a nap already."

She opened her mouth to protest, to make him see the magnitude of her warning but James' eyes narrowed into a dark glare. "Just _go_!"

A line read from the seventh book from so long ago echoed in her head: _I think you are like James, who would have viewed it as a height of dishonor to doubt his friends …_ and Harry's own reluctance to believe there was a traitor in their midst, and it was, according to Lupin, a complete mirror of James …

Chara swallowed the lump in her throat, sidled over to Lily's side of the couch, and sat down, quiet and sullen.

Her first attempt ( _in a long, long while_ ) to reach out a hand of compassion, to help, and it was spat back in her face so cruelly.

Anger and frustration curdled in her chest, hot and slick.

She buried her face in Lily's side, clutched onto the hem of the woman's woolen sweater, and tried to imprint her scent into memory before the rushing green ripped Lily away forever.

* * *

 **Darker Than Black**

* * *

"Boy, you really like this graveyard, don't you?"

When in danger of facing imminent death, rushing to a graveyard full of dead people to seek refuge was highly ironic. Chara was well aware of this fact but it didn't stop her from coming. So here she was, crouched beside the slab of stone that depicted Ignotus Peverell's name.

James stepped on his ancestor's grave, which was really rude, and crouched. Above them, the night was starry and stars began to twinkle in mockery of what was to come. Despite her reservations, Chara had nodded off to the heartbeats resonating beside her: Harry and Lily, at peace.

She'd woken up at seven, to Harry's yodeling and the Potters' cheerful chatter, as dinner was served and the delicious aroma permeated the air. She'd scarcely eaten and had fled the moment Lily and James turned their back on her for a second.

Cowardly? Most definitely, but realistically, she couldn't do anything. If she died, it'd do her no good. And she wasn't ready to die; no one was ever ready.

Sirius wasn't back yet. For his sake, she hoped he wouldn't be. She was evading the whole confrontation but knowing Sirius, he wouldn't have hidden away; he would've fought to his death to defend his best friend and godson and a woman he considered a close friend.

"Look, Reggie, I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier." James took a deep breath, throat bobbing. He must've had a hard time apologizing, even though it was to a toddler he believed wouldn't completely understand him. "It was uncalled for … and it's very funny to think an adult would speak a toddler like the latter understand but … you're no ordinary baby, are you?" James touched her chin, tipping her head back so their eyes met.

Chara went as stiff as brick. She felt no mental prod, if she would even know how it felt like, and she doubted James was a Legilimens. "You're not Regulus Arcturus either." James rocked back and forth on his heels. In the darkening light, she missed how his face contorted with conflicting emotions. "You … the drawing—is it real? Or you're just having fun? I get this feeling that…"

"Real, 'm not ly'in. 'Ormy tr'ai'or." She cupped his cheeks, imploring him by eye contact. _You're going to die._

Something clicked in his hazel eyes; at long last, he believed her. "Then let's get out of here." James had barely snatched her off the ground when, in the distance, the green of the Killing Curse burst into the night sky and turned the silver stars mint.

* * *

 **Darker Than Black**

* * *

Apparition was something a toddler's body couldn't take: as Regulus found out the hard way by retching upon arrival by James' violent, disheveled Apparition the split second after they saw the telltale sign of the Avada Kedavra. "Stay here!" James ordered, placing her on the ground beside her DIY puddle of sick.

Regulus winced at that but it barely registered through James' shout as he hurtled, flat-footed, towards his house where Harry's shrilling wail reached outside. Something on the top floor exploded; the glass windows shattered.

Regulus scrambled to her feet, sick to her stomach, and dizzy beyond belief. She glanced dazedly around for reinforcements but none came. An old Muggle man was gaping at the commotion but he was of no use. Regulus' mouth parted as the shock and terror finally caught up with her brain—that, up until then, had been taking its time squeezing through space to reach her—and she was ready to scream.

But the green swallowed her voice.

She felt the shockwave of the rebounding Killing Curse even from here, at the gates that led up to the cottage.

Her grey eyes widened: like a mint green veil had been drawn on the Potters' top floor, it evaporated from sight, blasted into pieces. The shrapnel had begun falling before she realized she could be injured by collateral damage. Something like an electrical discharge shot up her veins as she flung her arms up to shield her head: the wooden beam that flew towards her was flung away but something small and fluid slipped through her hazardous magical barrier: Regulus cried out in pain as foreign particle invaded her right eye.

 _Glass, please let it not be glass, I don't want to be blind!_

Regulus rubbed her eyes furiously, wetness trickling between her fingers, and even after the pain had dulled and the speck of glass was carried away by her excessive tears, relief was still a foreign thing to her.

Regulus scrambled for the gate, to run, but there was no longer any need to.

Silence had descended; a blanket smothering noise. Her breathing was loud to her own ears. Regulus swallowed thickly, afraid. She didn't hear further noises of battle and she had not seen anything running past her but maybe Voldemort was gone…?

It took her a few minutes to come to a decision: she walked up to the ruined cottage, breathed deeply, and headed in.

Contrary to what had happened, James' body was not at the foot of the stairs. Knowing from memory that it had all taken place in the upstairs nursery, Regulus climbed the stairs hurriedly and rounded the hallway.

The sounds of quiet sobbing, of a baby's sniffling, made her pause. Those sounded like it came from two people, and not just an infant.

She peered hesitantly into the ruined nursery, the rooftop of which had been blown away, and to her shock, she saw James Potter cradling the body of his dead wife.

He lived.

* * *

 **Darker Than Black**

* * *

For the rest of her life, the fact that James survived the night would be what amazed her—beyond the fact that Harry had survived the Killing Curse. She knew Harry would survive it either way so it did not stun her as it did the rest of the Wizarding World. But James—he was proof that her existence mattered, that she was real in this world, that she had the ability to change things.

Yet, she was unable to alter the fact Lily Potter laid dead, eyes glazed over and unseeing, on the ground, in her crook of her husband's arm. She could not change the fact that Harry was now motherless.

Regulus stood and stared for a long time. Only Harry's petering cries indicated that time did pass for James seemed as stunned as she; he had not moved, merely stared in shock down at his wife and time might've been frozen from just looking at his stance.

Regulus moved away, to give them privacy, and started down the stairs to wait for Sirius.

He would come for her, she knew.

The certainty she placed in Sirius was absolute; to her, he was safety. The mere thought of him coming soon was comforting, lulling her into a false of security. Which was why she didn't anticipate danger until Peter Pettigrew himself stumbled into her.

Wormtail was more frightened and worried than she'd ever seen him. He was pale, sickly so, and he trembled so badly that his teeth clacked together noisily. Her eyes widened upon seeing him. The moment in which their gazes clapped lasted for what seemed to be eternity.

Then Regulus gathered her wits and she cried out for help: "'Ames! Uncl' James 'elp! 'Ormy going to—" And abruptly, her voice was lost. She gasped, soundlessly: Wormtail's trembling wand arm remained poised, aimed at her; he had Silenced her with a spell.

"Reggie!" James' shout was distant. His voice that of a man finally coming to his senses.

Wormtail jumped as if James voice was an electrocution. Flabby hands flew to mouth as Wormtail's terror doubled: he knew if James lived to tell the tale, he would be doomed. "James … he's _alive_?" His voice was barely a hushed whisper.

James' footsteps had just thudded on the first step downstairs when Wormtail lunged and Regulus tried to dodge aside.

Wormtail seized Regulus by the scalp of her hair: she screamed and though her throat flexed and ached, no sound escaped her: the next second, the fabric of the universe was knotted and Wormtail forced Regulus to suffer through another bout of gut-wringing: they'd Disapparated and James skidded to a landing devoid of his goddaughter.

Regulus' cry was lost to the spell and to the cruel wring of distorted space.

* * *

 **Darker Than Black**

* * *

 _Papa will come; he will._

And this time, Sirius wouldn't be thrown into Azkaban, Chara reassured herself. James was alive, James would clear his name should he be accused.

These thoughts circling her mind were what kept Chara grounded; the one beacon of light in the hazy darkness of her ever-consuming fear.

She could not move; Wormtail had Stunned her. She could not even grind her teeth. To little relief, Chara could still utilize volatile magic but explosions wouldn't free her legs, wouldn't allow her the freedom to flee. Only her eyes retained freedom: her gaze darted around as best as she could, trying to take a shred of information in despite the darkness.

Wormtail had not turned on the lights. She had never been here before but the sofa she was laid upon implied this was a living room, in where Wormtail's lived during his short tenure as Secret Keeper. Bet that must've been a big job for him, she thought mutinously.

Chara found her position numbing; she couldn't feel anything. And she was propped on her side, arms splayed stiffly before her—her right arm dangled off the couch. She couldn't feel her legs at all.

The sounds that permeated the air were of Wormtail's heavy, labored breathing and his mutterings.

"… can't … yes, that's it … gotta hurry …"

Chara couldn't discern what that madman was going to do at all. Just when she thought she was making headway in deciphering his hurried mutters, the door to Wormtail's apartment crashed open.

It was not her father's voice that rent the air with rage: it was a woman's shrieking conundrum: " _WORMTAIL_!" Chara was nearly deafened by it, the voice was so sharp and high that she initially assumed it was Voldemort himself. She struggled to shift for a better view but to no avail.

"Traitor!" roared another's voice; a man, a deep baritone.

Wormtail yelped. Chara watched as he sped past her and flung himself to, presumably (judging from the splay of his legs on the floor), prostrate before the intruders. If he dared to willingly approach them and yet had to scrimp and grovel, it had to be Death Eaters.

And there was only one female Death Eater that came to mind. Chara's gut churned with fear but she could not express it with even tears or a scream or a flinch. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful for this or not. Her eardrums must be prickling within, struggling to catch every word.

"No, you've got it wrong! I passed the right information—I was there with our Lord all the way—I just barely escaped!" wailed Wormtail. "Listen to me," he added in a plea.

" _Do you know what they are saying?! That our Dark Lord has been vanquished! By an infant!_ "

"Is that true, Wormtail?" a third voice; another man, but his voice was not as harsh as the first, more urgent.

"What—happened—?!"

"It was a trap," sobbed Wormtail. From the sound of disgust that cut the air and the yelp that followed, Wormtail had tried to rub his face in the hem of someone's robes and he was promptly kicked away. "The Potters' baby was just a trap—bait, yes, bait! They ambushed my Lord—and it was all I could do to get away with … with her, yes!"

Had she been able to use her voice, Chara would've cried out when Wormtail seized her by the back of her onesie and showed her stiff, unmoving form to them.

"Sirius' daughter!"

"My cousin's—?" Chara needn't the woman's incredulous cry to identify her: Bellatrix Lestrange, beautiful in her madness, and utterly lethal. The curls of dark hair falling into her eyes did not hide the shroud of madness gleaming. A wand was jabbed into Chara's forehead. "Avada—"

Wormtail threw Chara away. She crashed into the ground. Indignation and frustration reared like snakes to kill at the treatment, like she was a doll. Yet another part of her was hugely relieved; the rat had just stopped her from being murdered, he'd saved her life—but, _why_?

"No, I need the girl! _We_ need her!" They did? Chara couldn't tense anymore than she was. All she could do was listen harder.

"How so?" Rodolphus Lestrange (or, at least, Chara assumed so) demanded roughly.

"Sirius will come for her, he loves her," gasped Wormtail, a sound of desperation, and Chara couldn't place why her heart smarted at the proclamation: _he loves her_. Really? Was it truly visible to others—the bond she shared with Sirius? "I'm sure of it! With Sirius away from James, your chances of reaching Potter are higher! He knows—James was the mastermind—he knows where they've kept our Lord!"

 _No, lies!_

The couch's stubby leg, visible from where Chara laid sprawled awkwardly on the floor, exploded in her distress as she renewed her struggles to free herself. To flee, to not be bait, to warn her loved ones of danger.

 _How could he?_

 _James knew nothing of anything. There was no plan. Wormtail was lying to get the Death Eaters out of his way and …_ Chara's mouth would've slackened in horror if she could move her mouth _… Wormtail was going to sic the Death Eaters on James … to torture information he did not have out of him … to shut James permanently up …_

And weren't the Lestranges and Barty Crouch Jr. sentenced to Azkaban for driving a couple to insanity?

"Where is Potter? Where is he?!" cried Bellatrix.

"Godric's Hollow … _please_ … you have to believe me …" Wormtail's pathetic sobbing barely registered in her ears.

A couple that couldn't give satisfactory answers?

What if they went even further and _kill him when he can't give a proper answer_ _—?_

 _No, please!_

This time, the cry was voiced. Chara surged to her feet; the blast from her small, trembling frame knocked the couches aside; she turned away from them.

But she never stood a chance against fully-grown Dark Wizards: three out of four wands were aimed at her, "Stupefy!" "Petrificus Totalus!"

Slackly, Chara tumbled into a void darker than black.

* * *

 **Darker Than Black**

* * *

Sirius came upon the end of the world, his basest instinct warning him that something had happened to the Potters.

Gone.

Lily was gone. Reggie was—Merlin, if that piece of shit laid a single, slimy hand on her—!

No, Sirius didn't have the time to mourn for the redhead; he had his daughter to find. James was exerting enough grief for all of them, even Harry who shed unknowing tears for a mother no longer there.

Sirius cast his godson a furtive look, uncertain about leaving all of a sudden. James had moved Lily and Harry downstairs, at the spot where he thought he'd left Reggie at before he charged in to check if his son and wife were alright and no, he had no idea where the Dark Lord was.

James had yet to let Lily go.

Sirius reached out to squeeze the man's shoulder. Kept his eyes off the ruins of the homey cottage this place they stood upon had once been. The state of the home reflected the state of its residents. "I'll be back soon, okay? Dumbledore and a couple of others will be coming once the skirmish in Diagon Alley's over with. We'll …" _We'll move Lily_ , he did not say.

He could not bear to say it; saying it would seal the deal as surely as Lily's coffin would be sealed.

Grief was something Sirius could not handle right now. He fell back on handy fury; the ever familiar rage that would surge and consume every molecule of his being, the which that had erased his hurt and tears as a young child who did not understand why his mother screamed at him for every single mistake.

He had a rat to hunt.

He did not know where Wormtail would be. His only possible lead was Wormtail's hideout. It took Sirius only a second to Apparate there, veins pulsing with rage. He didn't bother with turning the knob; he blasted the door open, his roar of rage only amplifying when he noticed the state of—of _chaos_?

Sirius' grey eyes narrowed as he took in the scene: the furniture was upturned and magic had clearly swept through the area.

He could almost believe the lie his mind was already conjuring: that Wormtail must've had information tortured out of him too.

But there, beneath the light of his sparking wand, was one-half of a friendship bracelet.

C-H-A-R-A

 _"What're you kids up to, today?" Sirius asked. His face felt stiff with the weight of his fake grin. There really was nothing to smile about—not when the McKinnons, Marlene, were dead, not when this war was ongoing—but he didn't want the kids to see his sullen face (too much like his father) and attribute it to his character._

 _"I just dug this up from the storeroom," Lily was the one who answered. Harry could not speak properly yet and Reggie showed no signs of acknowledging Sirius, focused as she was on the thread and beads she held._

 _Sirius squinted, catching the alphabets on each tiny square beads and feeling quite confused. "Oh, is it a Muggle thing?" The bracelet accessories he'd ever seen in his life were made of pure silver or gold, never lacking in his former home. And he'd never liked jewelry anyway; it wasn't like he had anyone special in his heart to gift it to._

 _"You could say that," said Lily vaguely, her attention on her son to make sure he wouldn't suddenly find the beads appetizing. Though Sirius was sure Reggie wasn't the type fool enough to sample a bead, he mimicked Lily setting an example of a good parent and kept his eyes on her._

 _Reggie had a good eye for color: she'd picked a bright light green thread to string mint, white and emerald beads, bearing H-A-R-R-Y in bold print; it would bring out the color of Lily's eyes in Harry's sockets. Harry was faring less creatively; a red thread that absolutely did not suit Reggie was chosen as the bearer to numerous colors that meshed loudly to sport her name—which he spelled wrongly._

 _Lily laughed as she made corrections to his spelling. But the fact remained Harry picked 'colorful' as a theme than compatibility._

 _"Ungh." Sirius was by his girl's side the instant she made a noise of discontent. Reggie was not coordinated enough to tie the thread together and her continuous failure was making the light overhead spark dangerously. However adorable he found her frustrated glare to be, he didn't want shards of glass to be showering them or for further destruction of the living room. So he reached round her, chin propped on her scalp, and took the separate ends, relieving her of the laborious job of tying a knot._

 _"Lovely," he proclaimed once he was done, grinning, "now go give it to Harry so you can get your half of the bracelet." At the mention of his name, his godson gave a whoop of joy, brandishing his handmade bracelet like a sword._

 _Reggie looked up at her father. Her highly expressive grimace told him what the picky girl thought of Harry's creation._

 _Looking at her expression, he couldn't help the bark of laughter from escaping him._

 _She accepted Harry's gift anyway._

C-H-A-R-A

Sirius brushed the bracelet away. It clacked against the cold floor. But the sound was nonexistent in the roar of his blood.

He'd recognize Wormtail's writing anywhere:

 _You remember the one time we went to a Muggle pub? You remember where the street was?_

 _I brought Chara out there for a bit._

Disbelief struggled to wedge itself in the rolling kaleidoscope of negative emotions in him. How dare he? How … dare … Wormtail write this … _this piece of crap?!_

 _He brought Chara there?_ Written as if he was just a doting uncle bringing his niece out for a walk in the park, veiling the truth, of what he might've done to his daughter or what he planned to do with her. And how _dare_ that bastard write that first bit? _Remember that pub?_ —as if Wormtail had any right to mention the times they'd spent together when his continued existence and Lily's persisting death were not solid, undeniable proof that Wormtail had betrayed every oath of brotherhood, friendship and loyalty they'd had.

No, Wormtail wouldn't stop there: he had Sirius' _daughter_.

Wormtail was _baiting_ him and Chara was bait. That was unforgivable.

Sirius snatched the bracelet off the ground, gripped it tight enough for indents to be cut into his palm—he'd get his daughter back, he reminded himself. He'd get the chance to put it round her small wrist again, for sure.

* * *

 _Harry Potter © J.K. Rowling_

 _Chara - Riseha's writing_  
 _Regulus - GaleSynch's writing_


End file.
